


Fever

by ruin (ruinrunes)



Series: BillGeorgie Collection [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruinrunes/pseuds/ruin
Summary: Bill slides his hand up, over each and every one of Georgie’s ribs before coming to rest atop his heart. It hammers so quickly Bill thinks, for a moment, there must be a rabbit’s heart there instead. Georgie’s chest is so small and heated, beating so fast Bill pictures it drumming right out of his chest and into the palm of his hand.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Georgie Denbrough
Series: BillGeorgie Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805047
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> just a little blurb about bill toucing his lil brother's tummy while he's all sick and feverish :~)

Bill likes it when Georgie is sick.

Well, he doesn’t particularly like the fact that his little brother is ill per say, he just likes the kind of person Georgie turns into when he’s under the weather.

Georgie is always a ball of sunshine and excitement, and while Bill likes the attention, loves the worship, he’s still Bill’s kid brother, and he’s still sometimes _too much_ when Bill just wants to be left alone.

When Georgie is sick, he gets… softer.

He’s still needy and whiny, but somehow, when he’s all red with fever and bundled up in his blankets, he takes up more room in Bill’s heart.

So when Georgie gets sick, _really_ sick, Bill skips out on hanging with his friends, choosing to stay inside and sniff around his brother, looking for an opportunity to be useful as their mom busies herself with preparing lunch.

Looking after Georgie when he’s seek like this isn’t a hard task. He’s mostly quiet, wrapped up in bed and sniffling as he drifts in and out of fitful sleep.

“Bill…” Georgie murmurs faintly, grabbing his attention immediately. Bill perks up, discarding his book and making his way over to Georgie’s side. His brother is tossing and turning, expression hazy as he fights with the blankets.

“M’hot…” He’s kicking the sheets off him and pulling weakly at his shirt. Bill tears his gaze away from the exposed sliver of his stomach and rests his hands overtop Georgie’s to still them.

“You’re sick, buddy, you’re gonna get worse if you don’t stay warm,” he says, trying not to sound all weird and desperate about it.

“But I _am_ warm.” Georgie insists, batting Bill’s hands away from him and struggling to sit up. He sways dangerously the moment he’s vertical, but scowls furiously at Bill when he makes an abortive movement to steady him.

Bill hovers uncertainly as Georgie pulls and tugs at his shirt, watching in dismay as his little brother finally remembers he has thumbs and hooks them under the edge and rips it off in one fitful motion, tossing it haphazardly over the edge of the bed. 

Shirt finally off and sitting discarded on the floor, Georgie collapses back into his pillows with a relieved sigh and promptly shuts his eyes.

Bill doesn’t know what to do.

He can’t stop _staring_, eyes fixated on his brother’s chest, flushed pink with fever and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

Bill tries his best not to look to long on good days, but it’s so rare for him to see Georgie like this he can’t help but drink it in.

He looks – hell, he looks like he’s straight out of one of those dirty mags Richie manages to swipe for them sometimes, chest heaving as he falls into a fitful doze.

Bill doesn’t mean to touch, but the heat radiating off Georgie is too much to ignore. His hand rests firmly on Georgie’s belly, eyes flickering to his face to check for signs of alertness.

Georgie barely reacts, save for the slight furrow of his brow that evens out almost immediately.

Bill slides his hand up, over each and every one of Georgie’s ribs before coming to rest atop his heart. It hammers so quickly Bill thinks, for a moment, there must be a rabbit’s heart there instead. Georgie’s chest is so small and heated, beating so fast Bill pictures it drumming right out of his chest and into the palm of his hand.

Bill leans over, just wants to get a closer look, wants to see if he can count all of Georgie’s ribs, if he can catalogue the texture differences between them.

But then he’s _there_, so close, close enough to rest his forehead against Georgie’s overheated skin. Bill’s breath shudders out of him in a broken stream, eyes slipping closed as he tilts his head, letting the curve of his cheek rest against his brother’s ribcage.

He’s impossibly hot, the sound of his heart echoing through Bill’s skull and reverberating through his body.

Wow.

He can’t remember the last time he’d laid his face against his little brother. Georgie must have been a baby the last time Bill had done this, still new and squalling. Bill still remembers him like that, sometimes, wrinkly and fresh and crying all the time and so, so fragile.

He splays his fingers, letting the point of each dig gently into the soft skin, so warm and alive, pulsing with sickness.

Bill shivers, doesn’t know when he broke out into a sweat himself, feels his brain go a little hazy at the idea that he’s doing this, he’s letting himself have this.

When he swallows, Bill is sure the sound is audible throughout the house. When had his throat gotten so dry? When had all the moisture in his body been replaced with heat and longing.

He’s half delirious as he draws his face back and sets his other hand on Georgie’s tummy, and oh, the slight of his own pale hands – not big by any measure, but still bigger than _Georgie_ – contrasting with the fever bright skin makes Bill feel a little lightheaded.

Bill isn’t sure if his palms are damp because of Georgie or himself, but it only makes it easier to slide his hands around, feeling every dip between Georgie’s ribs, the swoop of his torso, the curve of his hip.

He lets his hands go lower, testing the give of Georgie’s belly button and roaming to the edge of his shorts, already slung low on his hips.

Bill stares and stares and _stares_ at the waistband, mind going carefully blank as he gives up his higher sense of reasoning and sinks into his budding desire.

He’s more worked up than he can ever remember being, eyes drifting to half-mast as his fingers begin to creep under the spandex and –

“_Bill!_”

The sound of his own name frightens him so badly that Bill snatches his hands back with a yelp, careening backwards and landing on his ass with a dull thud.

“Bill! Are you up there?” He mother calls again.

Bill sits there shaking, staring wild eyed at the sleeping form of his brother, shirtless and still, unsure what had just come over him. What had he been about to do? What – what had he been _thinking_?

He scrambles up, feeling sick himself and suddenly terrified of being in the same room as his brother for even one more second.

Bill flies out of the room on unsteady legs, catching himself on the opposite wall and trying to get himself under control before he seeks out his mother.

He tries desperately not to think of where his hands had been drifting before he’d been interrupted.

**Author's Note:**

> u can find me @ruinrunes on twit if you can handle extremely dark themes and nsfw <3


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